


Trost Diner

by dizzyondreams



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 04:43:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyondreams/pseuds/dizzyondreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trost Diner made the best hangover food known to man, everyone on campus knew that. Trost Diner also had the cutest student chef that Eren had ever laid eyes on, and he supposed quite a few people on campus knew that as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trost Diner

Trost Diner made the best hangover food known to man, everyone on campus knew that. Trost Diner also had the cutest student chef that Eren had ever laid eyes on, and he supposed quite a few people on campus knew that as well. 

Trost was one of those greasy spoons that were a staple on uni campuses - the entire staff made up of students working to get their culinary degree, black coffee more like tar than liquid, and food to die for. It was one of those diners where you could sit at the counter and watch your food being made in front of you, or in Eren’s case, watch the cute chef’s butt as he made your food.

It was a ten minute walk from Eren’s dorms, a fluorescent oasis in a sea of deadlines and papers, and since Eren spent quite a lot of time hungover, and quite a lot of time lusting after the cute cook, he spent a lot of time in Trost.

Eren spotted cute chef Jean as he walked through the door of the diner, the bell above the door ringing like some sort of personal punishment for drinking too much last night. The diner was half-full, the other customers looking exactly how Eren felt. He put on his game face as he unravelled the scarf from around his neck and tried to ignore the throbbing behind his eyeballs. The sight of Jean in his dorky apron paired with a faded black t-shirt reminded Eren exactly why he had trekked from his warm dorm in the middle of winter.

Eren took a seat at the counter, sliding into the tall seat, and grabbed a menu to keep his hands busy. He pretended to read it, a mock thoughtful expression on his face, sneaking glances at Jean over the top of it. Eren was so smitten. Honestly, the heavens opened up and shone a pure, golden light down on them when Jean caught his eye and flipped him the bird. An angelic choir cranked up when Jean mouthed ‘ _fuck off_ ‘ at him from across the counter. Hell, Eren was blushing like a bride on her wedding night.

Jean pointed at him with a spatula. He had a totally douchey silver ring on his middle finger that Eren wanted to slide off with his mouth. “What do you want?” Eren snapped his gaze up from Jean’s hand and looked around exaggeratedly, before pressing a hand to his chest, eyebrows raised. _Me?_ Jean gave him a disparaging look and shook his head. “No, our lord and saviour Jesus Christ.”

Eren held up his hands and grinned. “Well, I don’t want to cut in ahead of the big guy.” He eyed Jean up, taking in the new ink on his bicep, a traditional style rose and hell. If this dude wasn’t the slightest bit gay Eren would eat his boot. If the undercut and the nose ring weren’t enough, that rose had to be. Besides, Eren had put some real time and effort into this flirting thing. He’d be incredibly disappointed if Jean turned out to be straight. 

“What do you want this time, Jaeger.” Jean asked in a long suffering tone, and Eren made a big show of looking through the menu, brow wrinkled and expression earnest until Jean laughed. He glanced up, grinning, and Jean rolled his eyes at him. “C’mon, there’s other customers here I’ve gotta serve.”

Eren leant back in the seat and gave Jean a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, but I’m the hottest by far.”

“Hmm.“ Jean tilted his head to the side and screwed up his face. “Contestable.”

Eren raised his eyebrows and laughed, considered leaning across the counter to smack Jean in the chest, and decided against it. “Maybe there’s nothing I want to eat on this shitstain menu.” Eren countered.

Jean arched his eyebrow. “Bye, then.” He turned back to the stove, but Eren had seen the expression of amusement twisting his lips up.

“Hey.” He grinned when Jean shot him a look over his shoulder. “Don’t give me the cold shoulder, man.” When Jean turned around fully, Eren gave him his most charming smile and leaned forward over the counter a little. Jean looked unconvinced. 

“I’ve actually got stuff to do, Eren-”

“How about,” Eren dropped his gaze to Jean’s lips. “How about you make me something special?”

Jean’s expression flat-lined. Eren grinned nervously and leant back a little. Had he crossed some sort of unspeakable boundary? Was Jean weird about making specific food for people? Oh God, Eren could practically see his romantic future going down the drain-

“Sorry, I don’t fuck on the first date.” Jean said with his arms crossed, looking at a point slightly over Eren’s shoulder. 

Eren gaped at him. “What.” Were they having the same conversation they’d been having a moment ago? “What?”

Jean was still staring at a spot over his shoulder. “I don’t know what gave you that impression but-”

“Jean!” Eren cut him off right there. He was grinning. “Jean, you absolute cock, I’m asking you to make something which isn’t on the menu, Jesus Christ.” He buried his face in his hands, laughing. “Fuck, you’re thick.”

Jean huffed embarrassedly, and half turned away from Eren with a screwed up expression on his face. Eren just couldn’t stop laughing. “And, hey, what was that about a first date?”

After Jean had rolled his eyes for so long that Eren was worried his eyeballs might fall out, and after he stopped blushing and his face had returned to it’s normal shade, he huffed again and glared. “Nope, no.” Eren gave him his best beseeching look. “Eren, no. I’m not allowed to - I’ve gotta stick to the menu.” Eren groaned, and laid his head down on the greasy countertop. Jean was still a bit pink around the ears, and wow, what Eren would do to see Jean blush that hard again. What a fucking loser.

“Jean, please-”

“Eren, it’s a no.”

“C’mon, there’s not many people-”

Jean shot him a half-irritated, half-amused glance. “Nope.”

They went around in circles like that for a while, Eren complaining into his hands and Jean shaking his head over the stoves. He stared at the back of Jean’s head and willed him to relent. The tips of his ears weren’t pink anymore, and it looked to Eren like his undercut needed shaving soon. Eren wondered what it would feel like - spiky and coarse, or smooth and soft? His hands were itching to reach out and touch. He sat on them, not trusting himself.

“Jean.” He called. A couple of the other student cooks in the kitchen gave Eren tired looks, but he ignored them. Jean was giving him a look of disdain. 

“I said no.”

“I promise you that if you don’t make me something right now, I’m never coming back.” Eren said seriously, or as seriously as a person could when telling an absolute barefaced lie. Jean gave him a look that told Eren that he saw through Eren’s deception, but it wasn’t too venomous. 

“God, fine, I’ll make you something.” He said with a huff, not looking at Eren.

Eren sat back down and gave Jean a winning smile. “You’re a saint.” Jean just rolled his eyes and Eren pretended he didn’t see Jean’s gaze lingering on his throat before he turned sharply away.

Jean ended up making Eren an omelette, because the diner really was quite slow on a winter morning, and Jean said how he remembered that Eren mentioned that he liked omelettes. This made Eren’s stomach do a funny little flop that had absolutely nothing with his hangover as he watched Jean cook. The apron tied around his waist showed off his slim figure, and Eren wondered if his washed-grey t-shirt felt as soft as it looked. 

They shot the shit whilst Jean cooked, talking about their classes and complaining about professors. Jean’s smile was sunny and warm and Eren couldn’t suppress a wide smile in return. He just dropped his head onto his folded arms and listened to Jean talk breezily about his culinary course and the Gordon Ramsey-esque chef in charge. He wondered if Jean would like to get to know him outside of the diner as much as Eren did. 

“It’s chicken, spinach and red pepper.” Jean said, interrupting Eren’s train of thought. He nudged Eren’s crossed arms with a warm plate. “Move.”

Eren sat up and stretched, popping his back with a wince and smirking when Jean grimaced. “Looks good.” He commented, taking the plate from Jean’s hand. Their fingers brushed slightly and Jean jerked his hand away quickly. In that moment, Eren only had eyes for the food. It looked incredible. “Dude, this looks _good_.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jean crossed his arms and looked away. “Just eat it before it goes cold.”

The next ten minutes consisted of Eren practically sobbing into his omelette. “You’re incredible, a god amongst men. Your culinary skills are unparalleled.” He said through a mouthful of food, closing his eyes and ignoring the dirty looks from the other cooks. “I’ve never had an omelette this good.”

“It’s something my mum used to make for me.” Jean replied, sounding pleased but as if he was trying not to show it. The tips of his ears were pink again. “Glad you like it.”

Eren rolled his eyes at the understatement - he was in love with this plate of food. “It’s excellent, you could make an excellent wife.”

“That’s fucking sexist.” Jean said, but he was smiling widely and ducking his head to try and hide it, his teeth white and straight and his eyes crinkling up at the corners. Holy shit, Eren was pretty sure he was going to go into cardiac arrest, his heart was beating so fast. “You‘re an asshole.” He said, softer. Eren ducked his head and grinned, and when he looked up again Jean had left the counter to wash dishes. Eren stared at the long, lean lines of his back for a minute, before dropping his gaze once more to his plate.

He ate the rest of his meal in relative silence, ruminating on how stupid he’d have to be to ask for Jean’s number. He wondered if he’d give it to him, or whether he was just flirting because Eren bummed around in the diner so often and Jean wanted him to actually buy something that wasn’t coffee.

“Hey, how much do I owe you?” He called across when he’d finished. Jean shook his head and wiped his soapy hands on his apron before running them over the shorn part of his hair.

“It’s on the house.”

Eren was fairly certain that Jean was a reincarnated saint, or something. “Seriously?” He said, hand lingering on his wallet. Free food was too good to give up, especially as a starving student. When Jean nodded, Eren could have kissed him. If, you know, he hadn’t wanted to anyway. “Thank you.” He said sincerely. “I’ve been living off 12p ramen and coffee for almost two years I cannot catch a fuckin’ break.”

Jean laughed and nodded. “I know that feeling.” They grinned stupidly at each other for a moment, sharing the collective understanding of their mutual too-poor-to-eat pain. “I do want one thing in return, though.” Jean added, looking thoughtful, the ghost of a smile still playing around his lips.

Eren narrowed his eyes and smirked. “Go on.” _This is it,_ he thought, _Jean’s gonna ask me for a kiss, holy shit._

“You have to give me your phone number.”

Eren only barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Talk about taking it slow, Jesus. “Okay, deal.” He said, and grinned. Maybe it wasn’t a kiss, but surely a phone number was potential for a date, which meant kisses, which hopefully meant Jean’s cock in his mouth like Eren had been dreaming of for months. “Lend me a pen.” He was fairly certain a date would lead to kisses - he was surprised the diner was still standing with the amount of chemistry he and Jean had.

Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but Jean was cute and a good cook and called Eren an asshole in the same way some people would say ‘darling’. Eren scribbled his number on a napkin and slid it across the counter to Jean, who stuffed it in his apron pocket and gave Eren a promising smile which made Eren’s stomach flip. _Totally promising._

“I’ll call you.” Jean said, watching as Eren wound his scarf around his neck and began to leave. “After work.”

“Yes, you will.” Eren said, pointing at Jean and tripping over someone’s bag as he made for the door. He stumbled, and gave Jean the finger as he laughed at him. “Fuck you, Kirschtein.” Except Eren was grinning so hard his face might break and Jean was shaking his head and laughing. “Call me!” Eren shouted as he left, and grinned when Jean lifted a hand in affirmation, Eren’s number between his fingers.

Eren practically floated to his morning lecture, not even caring that he was almost half an hour late for it. Completely irrelevant, because he’d _finally_ gotten cute chef Jean’s number.

**Author's Note:**

> this is written for the prompt: 'go to a restaurant and convince the cook to create something new just for you'
> 
> thanks for reading! pls point out if there's any mistakes aa ah


End file.
